I got locked in my own bedroom last night.
It was 11 PM and I was alone in my apartment. I was nearly ready to go to sleep, but I still needed to brush my teeth. I put on my slippers, reached for the rickety old doorknob on my bedroom door and twisted, as per usual...but nothing happened. I jiggled the doorknob--still nothing. I gave the knob a good solid shake-and-clockwise-twist...and the knob came off in my hand.
There I stood, all alone, knob-in-hand, teeth un-brushed. All I could think was, fuuuuuuck.
Plus, I needed to pee.
After nearly 45 minutes of some very poor wannabe-Macgyver -like (probably more Macgruber-like, actually) attempts to dismantle the hinges of the door using a paperclip and a pair of scissors, I gave up and called my roommate, who was across town at her boyfriend's house. My some miracle, she answered, hopped in a cab and came home to save me.
We tried, together, to open the door. With the door between us, we screwed the knob back in and attempted to unlatch it, with no luck. I was so stuck (and I really needed to pee). So, my roommate did what any good roommate would do. She called the fire department.
Two minutes later, I heard sirens getting closer and closer. Thirty seconds after that, I heard heavy footsteps and deep voices in the hall.
The firefighters tried their best to keep the door intact, but I think we all knew what would have to happen, so after ten-or-so minutes of trying to maneuver the latch, I heard a deep voice instruct me to "clear the door!"
One shove and a loud kick later, I was face-to-face with three uniform-clad firefighters. One of them reached down and picked up the knob and latch that was laying on the floor. "Here you go," he said, gently placing them in my hand. "This is broken. Sorry about that."
I know there's a metaphor in here somewhere. Something about saving myself, needing to be rescued, etc. But for now, I'm just happy to be out of my bedroom, with full access to the bathroom.
Not to mention I got to be rescued by firefighters.